Originally posted Dec. 12, 2008
This week we had our first pregnancy scare. I started bleeding pretty heavily on Wednesday night. I called the hospital and was told to stay in bed the rest of the night and the next day until I could reach my doctor. The nurse explained that bleeding in early pregnancy, especially to the extent that I was experiencing, usually means one thing- miscarriage. For hours the bleeding wouldn’t stop. I immediately wanted to call my mom and tell her how scared I was, but in the back of my mind I kept thinking that if I ignored what was going on it would just go away. If I acknowledged it, that meant it was really happening and I wasn’t sure I could deal with that. But the bleeding just wouldn’t stop.
After a few hours of trying to deny reality, I finally called my mom and we cried together. She suggested I ask for a blessing. It had been years since I'd recieved one, but the situation seemed to call for it. My dad came over immediately and gave me a blessing of comfort and peace. It was all very nice, but nowhere in the blessing did I hear what I wanted SO BADLY to hear--that the baby would be okay. I started thinking that maybe this was it. Maybe the nurse was right and I was miscarrying. I haven't been active in the church for years, but out of the blue I suddenly remembered all those Sunday school lessons we had about the cycle of wickedness in the Book of Mormon. The people have things pretty darn good and eventually they start to get a little forgetful of who gave them all those blessings. Slowly they give in to the ways of the world and start living in wickedness. After a while things get really bad and they start remembering how good things were back when they were righteous. They call on God to help them out a little and God's like 'Sorry guys, I think I'll have to let this one play out. You get to deal with it on your own and maybe next time you won't be so slow to remember me, eh?' (Okay, so that may not be a direct quote.) I couldn't help but wonder if it was my turn, if this was my lesson to learn.
But, as the night went on I started to feel very comforted and just at peace. I knew that WHATEVER happened, I would be okay. It may not be easy, but I was confident I would pull through. And before I went to bed that night, the bleeding had stopped.
Thursday morning I contacted my doctor. She was very worried and, like the ER nurse, prepared me for the worst. I went in for some blood work and then anxiously awaited the results. Even though I had been bleeding heavily, my hormone levels had continued to rise as they should. This means that the fetus is still alive and well. I hadn't miscarried.
I feel like this was just the first of what will probably be many scares like this. I haven’t necessarily been on great terms with God these past several years (which is completely my fault, but that’s a whole other story) but I feel like he does remember me. He knows me. I feel like this experience was just one of those things that he’s going to hand me to be sure I'm willing to do my part and remember Him.